


Captain Hoover

by Hekkenfeldt



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Embarrassment, Hickeys, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 15:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5972943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekkenfeldt/pseuds/Hekkenfeldt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gaped at his reflection. His neck was a massive collection of raspberry red hickeys, from his chin to his collar-bone. Every time he turned his head, he found another bruise. Big hickeys, little hickeys – he looked like someone had tried to strangle him.</p>
<p>“What the fuck, Steve? Were you trying to eat me?!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain Hoover

Sam lay back against the pillows, absently stroking Steve’s hair. There was nothing quite like the come down after orgasm – the way the whole world felt calm, and warm, and liquid. He was just on the verge of falling into blissfully relaxed sleep when he heard Steve gasp.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!”

Sam sat up in a flash, pushing Steve off of him, and checked himself, Steve, and the room for damage. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss other than Steve’s horrified face. Even the lamp, which frequently got knocked onto the floor during sex, was still sitting on the night table where it belonged.

“Baby? What’s the matter?”

“Your _neck_.” Steve breathed, eyes growing wider as he reached out to touch whatever was wrong. “Does it hurt?”

Sam was about to answer that it didn’t when he realized that it actually _was_ rather tender where Steve had been poking. Frowning, he got up and went to the mirror, Steve following him with a hang-dog expression.

Sam gaped at his reflection. His neck was a massive collection of raspberry red hickeys, from his chin to his collar-bone. Every time he turned his head, he found another bruise. Big hickeys, little hickeys – he looked like someone had tried to _strangle_ him.

“What the _fuck_ , Steve? Were you trying to _eat_ me?!”

Steve blushed all the way to his hairline. “I’m _so_ sorry. I didn’t think they’d... I didn’t think they’d show up with your skin color, is all!”

Sam sighed. He wanted to be mad, he really did, but Steve just looked so miserable that instead he wrapped his arm around his waist. “It’s fine. No big deal. But if they haven’t faded by morning, you’re buying me a scarf.”

 

They did not fade by morning. In fact, in the sun’s early light the hickeys actually looked worse. Steve brought Sam one of his winter scarves, but Sam couldn’t bear to wear it. For one, it was hot out. For two, the pretentious hipster look just wasn’t for him. He’d just have to go to work the way he was.

 

At 11:30, he got called into his boss’ office.

“Please, close the door behind you.”

Sam cringed. The rule at the VA was that, unless someone was having a session with a client, the doors stayed open. Which meant Sam was in trouble. He wracked his brain for something he could have done wrong in the last few weeks, but came up blank. He’d been so good about not letting his Avengers stuff get in the way of his work duties, so it couldn’t be that...

Mr. Smith sat down and motioned for Sam to do the same. Sam waited for him to say something, but the other man just kept clasping and unclasping his hands, and giving Sam this tender sort of look that was making Sam feel increasingly uncomfortable.

"Mr. Smith...? Did I do something wrong?"

Mr. Smith shook his head. "No no no, Sam. _You_ haven't done anything wrong." Then he cleared his throat and loosened his tie, before giving Sam another one of those long, tender looks. “Sam, is everything okay at home?”

“Um... yes?”

“We're friends, you and I, right Sam?"

Sam's eyes widened. He felt a momentary panic that Mr. Smith was about to ask him out, but everyone at the VA knew about Steve, so that was unlikely. Being in trouble seemed more probable."Yes...?"

"Good. I’d like you to think of this as a safe space, where we can tell each other what’s going on in our lives.”

“Okay....” Sam marvelled at Mr. Smith's language. 'Safe space' was the kind of thing they would say to clients.

“What I’m saying is, if there’s anything, anything at all, on your mind, it’s okay to share it with me.”

Sam wanted to share that he was beginning to think that his boss had lost his mind, but that probably wasn't a good way to keep his job.

“I.... could use more pens? We’re always running out of pens...”

"Yes, pens. Good. I can do that. Is there anything.... more _pressing_? Anything more... _personal_?"

Sam scratched his neck in confusion, and winced when his fingers touched the bruises. It wasn’t until he saw his boss’ eyes go wide that he realized what was going on. The client talk, the tender looks... _Aw, shit._ “Sir, I promise, it’s not what you think.”

“Sam, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. An abusive partner is _not_ your fault, and we have so many resources available—“

“Steve didn’t hurt me!” Sam exclaimed loudly, and then winced, because everybody in the hallway had probably just heard him, despite the closed door. “Sir, really. There’s nothing wrong between me and Steve. Everything is fine and—“

“I understand that you want to protect him, Sam. He’s a national hero, and a veteran. Sometimes the PTSD can make us act out and—“

“It was just sex!”

Mr. Smith blinked at him for a moment. “...I’m sorry?”

“They’re hickeys, sir. Really and truly. Giant, ridiculous hickeys because I have a giant, ridiculous boyfriend.”

“Sam, your entire neck is _purple_.”

He could feel himself begin to panic, and the words started to tumble out. “Super-strength, sir. The suction is something else. Like a hoover vacuum. You wouldn’t believe what his blow... uh. Oh god. Never mind.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and Sam wondered which of them would die from embarrassment first. Finally, his boss stood up and opened the door. “Good talk, Sam. You, uh.... just.... buy a scarf or something?”

Sam nodded quickly and did his best not to run out of the office.

He was going to _kill_ Steve.

 

Sam’s face was still warm with embarrassment as he left the VA that evening. The last person he wanted to see was Natasha, who was waiting at the exit for him. She gave him a slow look, pulling her sunglasses down her nose to better take him in. Then she smirked.

“Really don’t need your comments, Nat. Having a bad enough day as it is. Tell me you didn’t just come to gawk.”

“I didn’t say a word. Besides, Steve sent me to help.”

“Unless you’ve got a trunk full of scarves, there’s not much you can do.”

She grinned, and he felt a slight shiver go down his spine. “Oh, honey. There’s plenty I can do. Get in the car. We’re going _shopping_.”

 

Natasha pulled up in front of a store Sam had never been to before, and frog-marched him to the front steps. “Nat, I was kidding, I don’t really want a scarf.”

“Welcome to Sephora!” cheered the heavily made-up girl who met them at the door.

Sam smelled the heavy scent of perfume and his eyes went wide with panic as he realized where he was. “Aw, hell no! I am not wearing make-up! It’s not that bad!”

Natasha blocked his escape. “No way, buddy. You nearly got in trouble at work, you need this.”

“How do you even _know_ about that?”

“Wowee...” breathed the door girl. “Your neck is a mess...”

“It’s not that bad!!”

Natasha and the door girl looked at each other a moment, before joining forces to bodily push him through the doors.

 

Several hours and several tubes of concealer later, Sam was grumpily perched at the kitchen table. He had to admit that his neck looked infinitely better, but his wallet was also infinitely lighter, and he was convinced he still smelled of, well, every perfume that ever existed.

“That looks a lot better.”

Sam sent Steve a withering glance. “It wouldn’t _have_ to look better if a certain someone hadn’t tried to _inhale_ my neck.”

Steve blushed and fiddled with his hands. “Can I make it up to you?”

Sam gave a long suffering sigh. “And how, exactly, do you propose to do that?”

“Blow jobs? Lots and lots of blow jobs?”

Sam rolled his eyes, but found himself smiling a little at Steve despite himself. “Fine, I suppose we can put that vacuum mouth of yours to _proper_ use.”


End file.
